Out of Body, In Your Mind
by Another Girl Grasping
Summary: Bellatrix POV. Bellatrix reflects on the young woman who mourned her death. Rated M for some sexual content, I'm certian I cussed somewhere in there too.


Out of Body, In Your Mind

By Another Girl Grasping

Disclaimer: Pretty sappy stuff, not all that bloody. Some smut. Not my characters. One shot. Enjoy.

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When I died, no one really took much notice. All of the people who may have cared for me were either dead or fleeing. The Dark Lord was gone. My sister had chosen to turn and flee with her son. I can't say I blame her. I can't even make myself be upset with her over it. Whether that has to do with a certain peace that comes with being dead or the fact that she never pledged to serve my Lord I simply can't bring myself to care. Walking away from a battle that was never hers was the smart thing to do. I think I even commend her for it. Floating up from my body I was surprised to see you; Mudblood girl sitting there, staring at my body. You seemed to care even more than I did.

Of all the people in the world, it was you, one of the people I treated the most horridly who was mourning my death. Your fallen face and the silent tears you shed for me stood out to me in stark contrast to the obscene celebration of the Weasley family over Molly killing me. Who would ever have guessed it? The one person who should hate me most was shedding sweet, fat tears for me. My little muddy girl, you made your best attempt at redeeming the less dominant parts of my personality. The parts like kindness and acceptance, things that had been nearly stamped out of me from the day I was born, things that were shriveled up and withered by fourteen years of Dementors in Azkaban.

I can't say death was unwelcome. I used up my life by filling my heart with hate. I found out too late that I was wrong. I found out too late that I wanted more from life than what I had. It was too late when I discovered having blood that wasn't pure had no bearing on who a person is. I can't help feeling stupid. Look at Malfoy, that sniveling little pile of shit. Good family name, blood almost as pure as mine and Cissy's and still he was a cowardly bastard. What to do when you realize so late in the game that you're playing for the wrong side? You grab your ankles and kiss your ass goodbye. A lifetime of following the Dark Lord couldn't just be thrown away over the fact that he was wrong.

It was easier to pretend that I hated the Mudblood than it was to admit that a lifetime of belief was folly, that I was the fool. Brown eyes, soft skin and sweet, silken lips can't be wrong. It was no fault of my own that you came along so late in the game. So young, sweet, innocent, corruptible. You showed me what life was for. There had been women before you, men too, scores of people, some of whom I am unable to remember completely, just faces, hands, teeth, nails, but you were different. You showed me the most unlikely thing. You showed me what that old coot Dumbledore was always going on about. In your whispering my name as I sank my teeth into the tender skin of your thighs, you showed me love.

You intrigued me in the Department of Mysteries. It seems so fitting, the Mudblood intriguing me in the Department of Mysteries. The fact that I found anyone intriguing was a mystery to me, but of all people, you? The know-it-all, little, mudblood chit? Now _that _was fucking mysterious. Your bravery was profound. I always hated Gryffindor brats, but it looked so appealing on you. Your eyes were all fire and enthusiasm. Danger suits you; perhaps that's why you always get yourself into it. You had been running around that day, fighting off big, bad Death Eaters, all of them at least twice your age and still they couldn't contain you. It wasn't until I got there that the situation was brought under control.

Little Longbottom was almost able to get away from me for a moment; I doubt anyone noticed, but you had me distracted. I wanted to be holding my wand to your throat, not to Longbottom's. I wanted to know what your bushy hair smelled like, I wanted to wrap my arm around your waist and pull your body against mine in front of all of those people, make you flush for everyone to see. I couldn't understand what I was thinking, why I wad desiring you, little mudblood in the jumper, with mussed hair and a boyish, underdeveloped figure. I couldn't understand it but there it was. I felt rage rise in my throat when I thought about your age, only fifteen, what was a little mudblood girl to me? You were a child, nothing.

It wasn't until a year later, your sixth year that I was able to sate my curiosity. You were sleeping when I found you. You were curled up in a deserted area in the library, the same place I enjoyed reading during my time at school, the same place I'd fallen asleep after failing to get up to my room. I was there without my Lord's permission, without his knowledge. I figured if I found the Potter boy I would bring him back and be rewarded, if I found you… _I_ would be rewarded. I looked a bit for Gryffindor Tower, but having never been there I had no idea where to find it. I resigned myself to visiting the library before leaving. The restricted section was always a fun place to look for better curses to use on victims.

Seeing your slight form (slightly less slight than the first time I saw you, if you follow my meaning) was like hitting a jackpot. Your pajamas were juvenile, drawstring pants and a sleeveless top. A small amount of skin was visible, the area between the hem or your shirt and the waistband of your bottoms. I walked slowly and quietly toward you. No easy feat in a pair of heeled boots. I pulled your wand from your curled left hand. Were you left handed? I wondered. Perhaps not, your right hand lay below your cheek; your left hand barely grasping your wand was just a precautionary habit. What was it about you? Your blood was filth, dirt, but your skin… so clean, I could smell soft, girly soap coming from you. How could you smell so clean, look so pristine, when the very lifeblood in your veins was tainted and disgusting?

I ran a finger along the exposed skin. You stirred a bit. You said that ginger boy's name, that fucking weasel. Were you fucking him? I wondered. So young, so innocent to my eyes. Was your mudblood body pure? Could a mudblood be pure? I didn't want to play clean-up to the ginger. I wanted to find your innocence intact, break through it with my own hand; I wanted to take something from you that no one else could ever have. My mouth went dry at the thought. I do so enjoy a good corruption. I placed a palm on your hip. You turned and your eyes opened. Confusion was the first thing that I saw behind your eyes, but it was quickly replaced with alert fear. Your left hand tightened to a fist and you looked lost without your wand. You were lost and I had found you here. I smiled at you, what I thought to be a friendly like smile, but the fear in your eyes assured me that it was terrifying.

I frowned, remembering that I was supposed to be bat-shit crazy. Sometimes I was, in the heat of battle, in the middle of torturing people, when between a woman's legs, but even I had moments of lucidity. I had been clever enough to sneak in to this place hadn't I? Clever enough to get by all of the professors and students, by the paintings, by everything to come and find you there. I could taste your vulnerability, thick in my throat. It tasted like life itself.

Your eyes were wide and mad-looking, searching around for something, anything. Could you scream for someone? "You scream, I kill you mudblood." I said, seeing the idea in your eyes. You opened your mouth, closed it and opened it again.

"What do you want from me?" You asked after resolving to be brave. It really did look good on you. I wanted to take your bravery and shred it to confetti. I wanted to toss it into the air and dace around on the pieces as they fell to the floor. What business did you have being brave?

"Everything." I replied calmly. Your eyes went wide. You shook your head and closed your eyes, willing this to be a bad nightmare. When you opened them again I was still there, only I'd moved closer.

"Is this a dream?" You asked. I was close enough now to see the green specks around your pupils, the starburst of golden-brown that housed the green specks. Your eyes were lovely. I remember thinking that eyes must be the mirror to the soul because yours were beautiful and filled with life, while mine were as dark as my soul and maiden name. I ran the sharpened nail of my forefinger along your jawline. Your breath hitched. Even for a little mudblood you knew when something was exciting, when something felt good. I closed the space between us and claimed your lips with mine. There was no sleep on your breath and I imagined you must have just drifted off, lucky me to have found you in a moment of weakness.

"Dream of me often, do you mudblood?" I asked, chuckling. You narrowed your eyes at me.

"If I did, they would be nightmares." You said. I felt my lips smear into a smile. I ran my hand down your side, my you weren't boyish anymore, you're hip felt rather womanly beneath my roaming hand. The curve of your waist was delicious.

"So you nightmare of me often?" I whispered into your ear. Your breath hitched and then you gasped at your own reaction. It was such good fun to watch your body betray your mind. It was curious indeed that you thought of me as much as I had been thinking of you, mysterious even. You placed both hands on my shoulders and when I was thinking that you were going to give in; you pushed me back, hard. I slammed against the bookcase behind me and the towering shelves almost toppled over, some of their contents spilling out onto the floor on the other side of it. You ran for it, but I caught you quickly enough. "It isn't nice to push mudblood. You could at least mind your manners, or do muggles not have manners?" I wanted to get a rise out of you.

"Manners when dealing with a sociopath? Honestly? You've come here to torture me or kill me or drive me mad. Why on earth would I mind my manners? Also, yes, muggles have got manners. _You_ haven't." Your spirit was delectable. I cannot be sure what in you made you dare speak to me that way, but I wanted to find that part and make it bleed form me. I sneered at you.

"Who says I've come to torture, kill or drive you mad? Can't two women have a nice, civilized encounter?" I asked. You were utterly taken aback. "So the know-it-all mudblood can be shut up then? Good to know." I said. You raised your nose at me.

"I won't be baited by such childish antics. Whatever you've come to do, just do it and be done with it. I won't beg for my life, I won't cry and plead, but know that when you are done here there will not be a place for you in this world. Nowhere you run or hide will be safe." You said. I was impressed.

"You think Potty and the Ginger Weasel would be able to avenge you?" I asked, cackling at your would-be heroes. You shook your head vehemently.

"I will simply become a ghost and haunt you, I'll make every moment of your life miserable. You won't be able to eat without me there, pestering you. You won't be able to sleep without me howling through the night. You won't even be able to shit without me sitting on your sink, complaining of the smell. I will attach my spectre-self to you and you will wish you could go back and undo what you are going to do tonight." I cocked my head to the left and stared at you for a moment before laughing. You were a _funny _mudblood. "I don't know why you are laughing; I assure you that I'm perfectly serious." You said and put a hand on your hip.

"The seriousness with which you said it is what makes it funny." I replied and a smile played at your lips for a moment before you took control of your face and stamped it down. I moved in close again and pressed my lips to yours. You pushed on my shoulders again, but I was ready for that. I put my hand on the small of your back and bent you backward lightly; taking any equilibrium you may have had away from you. You wouldn't be throwing me again. You strained against me at first, but soon relaxed into the kiss and responded. Your cheeks were a lovely pink when I pulled away.

"That was… I've never…" You said before reigniting the kiss. I had expected you to be a virgin, but to never have been kissed? I was shocked at you mudblood, utterly shocked. What felt like hours later, we broke apart again.

'You're awfully good at that for having never done it before." I breathed out. You smiled.

"When is the part where you crucio me and slash me?" You asked. I shook my head.

"That's not what I came for tonight." I said simply and ran my hands up your shirt. You gasped at the sensation of my palm on your nipple. Your stomach was trembling, you were a virgin, and you were just as I imagined you. I snaked my hand into your pajama pants and you put yours over it, stopping me.

"Please don't." You said, your eyes pleading. You were willing to take whatever torture I had planned, but when you discovered that what I wanted to give you was pleasure, what I wanted to take was your virtue you asked me to stop.

"Why not?" I asked you. I knew why.

"I love Ron." You answered and looked down. I placed my pointer beneath your chin and lifted your eyes to meet mine.

"Does he love you?" I asked. Tears formed in your eyes.

"I just don't know. He is dating Lavender now." You said.

"Lavender? Is she as pretty as you are?" Your eyes widened at the compliment. "Or just more willing to do things than you?" I finished.

"I… I'm waiting for him." You said as if you had just decided. I shook my head.

"He isn't waiting for you. I could show you things. I can do things that your Ginger Weasel doesn't even know exist. I can make this good for you… or I can force you." I explained. I wasn't leaving that night without having a taste of you. I wanted to figure out why I was intrigued. I wanted to know why you were so mysteriously appealing to me. I was going to have you.

You appeared to be thinking about your options. "You'll hurt me." You said finally.

"Either way, this is going to hurt, if you comply, it will be very minimal, if you fight me, I can make it bad for you." I said. You thought again for a moment and then a look came over your features. You looked like you had just decided that the best way to solve the Gordian knot was to slice right through the god forsaken thing. You pulled your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra. My god you were lovely mudblood.

A blush crept up on your face. "Will you… will you let me see you as well?" You asked. You didn't want to be the only one exposed. I rolled my eyes, but nonetheless began to loosen the laces of my corset. When it was loose enough I let my dress fall down my shoulders and pool on the floor. Your eyes ravaged my body. It seemed as though you decided that if you were going to do this, you were going to learn as much as you possibly could about it in the process. I half expected you to stop in the middle of it and take notes.

I took one of your breasts in my hand and kneaded it, gently first and then a bit rougher. You responded with lovely gasps, little groans and sharp intakes of air through your teeth as I replaced my hand with my mouth. My hand ran up and down your sides and your skin broke out in gooseflesh everywhere I had been. I pushed you to sit back on the chair I woke you in. I bound your wrists to the arm rests for fear that you would try to stop what was happening. "No!" You cried out. I looked up, shocked.

"What is it, girl?" I asked annoyed.

"This is my first time! I don't want to be held down like a rape victim, I've already agreed, haven't I? If this is how it's going to be then I want no part of it!" You said. My goodness you were a strange girl mudblood. You had no choice in the matter; I was just being nice to you, allowing you to consent. Allowing your first time to be soft. I could have been cruel and pushed into you, breaking your innocence and leaving you afraid of sex after me. I ignored you and planted kisses on your collar bone and grazed my teeth along your shoulders. "Please." I heard you ask. You voice was small and insistent. I looked up to you. Your eyes were saying please. I unbound you.

"What are you playing at mudblood?" I asked. "I've got your wand, you can't stun me." You nodded.

"I just didn't want it to be that way. I've been ignored by the person I've pined for. If he doesn't see the value in me and want to be doing this with me, then at least someone does. Considering who you are, you've been more than courteous about this." You said. I narrowed my eyes at you.

"Considering who I am? What's that supposed to mean then?" I asked, irritated. You ran your fingers through my hair and brought your lips down to mine.

"It means that I'm aware of how you could be treating me and I'm inclined to find this option more favorable, now are we doing this or not?" You said. I was surprised with you. I never expected you to agree. I thought I was going to have to force you; I was almost counting on it. The softness and submissiveness was nothing I came prepared for. It was in those moments of confusion that I began to realize that there was worth to you. You found worth in me. You were giving to me, willingly, the most intimate thing you had.

I kissed your thighs and eventually snaked my tongue between your folds. You were wet. You were wet for me. I darted my tongue out at your nub and the moan I received in response reverberated down my spine. I felt like liquid fire was flowing into my soul, pooling between my own legs. Finally you shuddered out your first orgasm on the lips of a sworn enemy. I smiled up at you, your sweetness on my lips like a milk mustache. I see little crescents on your breasts from you digging your nails into yourself. Trying to hold back, not understanding what you were feeling.

I waited until you came down from your orgasm to probe one tapered finger into you. Your hands ball into fists at the intrusion. I met with the resistance that proved the Ginger boy was blind to see the beauty in front of his eyes. Part of me wanted to leave you that way, but part of me wanted to take this from you. I looked up at your face. Your eyes held fear, but also excitement. You pointedly thrust your hips forward, letting me know that you wanted me to proceed. I curled my second finger into you and took from you what the Ginger boy never had, what the Ginger boy never would. You cried out in half pain/half pleasure. I withdrew my fingers and cleaned your innocence off of them with my wand. I cleaned the blood off of your thighs.

The tears in your eyes made you sparkle to me. When I slid into you again you gasped in pain. I went slow, letting you adjust, letting you come to me. After a time your hips began to soar up toward me, meeting my every thrust. Your hands held onto my shoulders as if you feared you might be falling off the face of the Earth itself.

When your second orgasm took you it was beyond words. Your mouth open, crooning for me, moaning out your release, head thrown back. I could see your lips pull up around your perfect teeth in a grimace of pleasure. Your walls pulled and pushed at me, closing in around me. You were beauty personified. You were ruined for the little Ginger boy. He would never be able to give you what you got from me. In that moment your entire world turned, balanced on the tips of my fingers, there was nothing but the feeling of me inside you. I was your world. For my part it felt as though I wasn't inside you, you were all around me.

Curiosity satisfied, I walked out of your life, letting your wand clatter behind me as I swept away; a slip of a woman with a flourish of robes as I pulled them back on. You were no longer a mystery, but you had changed my perception. Magic had crackled within the space between us and it was you, your magic. A mudblood who was able to cause sex magic. Purebloods were the only ones who were supposed to be able to do so. It solidified the doubts in me.

When I died, I looked down at you. I know that I died for a cause I no longer believed in. I know that I could have easily stopped the curse that killed me, but what kind of life would that have been? I just couldn't go back to Azkaban my dear mudblood. I just couldn't imagine having to life out my remaining years without having you all around me. Your tears were a rain that fell as my spirit soared through the air. It seems that even the most evil of us can repent, can be salvaged. You were right.

Fin

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This will not be a story, it is an emotional piece of drabble that I had to get out of my head. Hope you all enjoyed. Hit the review button, tell me how you love it.


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